Month: February 2013

My four-year old, Josiah, approached me with his Action Bible last night. Behind his bright brown eyes the wheels of his little inquisitive mind were churning.

Jesus died with, and for, bad guys

“Hey daddy, who’s that?” he pointed to a picture of a thorn-crowned man hanging on a cross. (He knew the answer.)

“That’s Jesus”

“But who’s that?” he pointed to the thieves on either side, betraying his real question.

“Two bad guys….Jesus died with bad guys to show that He died for bad guys….because He’s the good guy.”

“Even when we’re bad guys, Jesus died for us and loves us.”

“Oh….I love Jesus,” he said. That little confession from the lips of my child is enough to make a Puritan do the cabbage patch.

At our worst moment, worst sin, worst stumbling, most clumsy tripping and cursing and falling off the cliff of our own foolishness; He loves us in that moment, in the blessed now.

Not what we’ll become when we figure out this religion thing. What we are in the present.

Not when we’ve modified our behavior to appease a cultural Christian standard yoked around our throats. He takes all our hangups and foulups and chokeholds and then crushes the Son with them in an everlasting display of love.

This is an eternal, and to the hardened world,strangelove.

Josiah is sometimes illogically mean to his younger brother, Gideon. I am often unfeeling and impatient with my younger weaker “brothers.” Jesus loves us both.

Josiah sometimes doesn’t share his favorite toys with others. I often don’t share my resources and money with the ministries and poor who need it most. Jesus loves us both.

Josiah whines and pitches fits when he has to clean his room. I haven’t washed my car in ages (ever?). My wife can attest to my consistent inability to pick up my shower towels. Jesus loves us both.

Depending on the hour of day, Josiah and I can be cantankerous, immature, unthoughtful, and selfish. We are both grateful for the good guy who loves and died for bad guys.

Like my little boy, I need an undeserving love lavished on me everyday.

A no-strings-attached no-prerequisite-required love new every morning.

The lifelong confession of professional stumblers and bad guys can never be more simple or profound:

If the rapture happens while I’m in the theater, I will have left this world in one happy ironic state. I’m still a bit perturbed the Oscars snubbed Kirk Cameron for his original Left Behind role of Buck Williams. If that’s not worthy of a Lifetime Achievement Award what is?

On another note Tim Lahaye, the creator of the 16 part (?!) Left Behind books series, says, “The plot line (for the movie) is nothing like the book.” I’m assuming that’s a good sign for the movie.

Maybe the producers of the new Left Behind will take some riveting plot notes from my friends at Rapture Ready:

If you do take the mark (of the beast) then nothing can be done for you—you will suffer the malignant ulcer making the rest of your life almost unbearable. Did you ever have a canker sore in your mouth? If so, then you know how painful that one little canker sore was. Now think of having canker sores all over your body, on your genitalia, in your mouth. Think how painful and unbearable your life will be.

For me, it’s kinda fun. Go to the archives of this blog, and I’m ashamed to say, you may find one or twenty examples.

Shooting the wolf and being the hero to the sheep is gratifying business. It’s like Call of Duty, but instead of Nazi Zombies we’re taking out heterodox super pastors. God and world needs us, right? Cause there’s a heretic or demon lurking behind every dark corner or pair of hipster glasses.

In some cases there may be.

But I don’t know if we are doing any service to the King who is sovereign by acting like the world is always spinning out of control. God’s truth will march on even if we don’t enlist as His elite team of orthodox freedom fighters. Narrow is the way and there are few who find it, but the grace of God is strong enough to push all manner of theological diversity through that impossible door.

Not heresy mind you. Diversity.

We shouldn’t make “the way” narrower by our pet traditions. Funneling everyone/thing out until we’re only surrounded by a couple of proud folks clinging only to their TULIPs. Or translation of the Bible. Or conspiracy theories. Or denomination (or non) of choice.

And some may say, “Well, Paul called people out…” He did. But what’s our fascination with calling people out? To show that we have some kind of inerrant apostolic insight others don’t? Paul was given a specific divine call to nurture and defend a sensitive movement that was in its utter infancy.

“But God gave me the gift of discernment.” He probably did. Instead of wielding that gift like a drunk Corinthian, why don’t we use that discernment to bathe the person in tearful intercession?

Instead of a drive by internet comment how about emailing the offending party? Take them to coffee? Get to know their story? Ask questions?

The whole doctrine of church discipline (that we ignore today) begins with a brother lovingly and personally confronting a fellow brother. Not a hasty blog rant submitted to the masses about another’s error.

I know some mega Christian leaders are out of our personal scope of contact. Sure, ice cream with the Pope is out of the question. And I’m definitely not saying we should never point or even publish some thoughtful contrarian words to certain movements/ministries. But the reactionary knee jerk potshots from self constructed towers of ivory should not be our staple message.

For example:

I’ve made about a thousand more snarky comments over Joel Osteen’s theology than one prayerful utterance over his ministry. Hypocritical I know. And because of my fallen flesh, I’ll probably be clowning his love for Oprah tomorrow.

Speak the truth. But lets not speak it until we know it’s seasoned with salt, grace, love, and a broken heart. Truth is powerful. It shouldn’t be thrown around in a fit of rage like a Ryu fireball.

Keep praying.

Keep weeping.

Keep contending.

Make Christ, who is “full of grace AND truth”, the center of it all (John 1:14)

I took one Creative Writing class in college. Much of the class involved sitting in a circle tribunal of your peers and having your work torn apart. It was horrifying. My haikus, among other forms of writing, were “too overt”. Blogging is a much safer writing experience. I don’t have to witness the disgusting or apathetic facial expressions my work produces in my blogging peers.

Like this:

Tom, the lead character of Tennessee William’s “The Glass Menagerie”, once hit me with a haymaker of truth in a college literature class. The quote goes:

“I’m tired of movies! Look at them! …..You know what happens? People go to the movies instead of moving! Hollywood characters are supposed to have all the adventures for everybody in America, while everybody in America sits in a dark room and watches them have them! Yes, until there’s a war. That’s when adventure becomes available to the masses! Everyone’s dish, not only Gable’s!……But I’m not patient. I don’t want to wait till then. I’m tired of the movies and I am about to move!”

Written in 1944, what an indictment on our manic digital age culture.

I see ninth graders everyday who have made smartphones a natural extension of their bodies. The hypnotizing draw of Text messaging/Instagram/Facebook/Twitter has them isolated and slumped over in room full of real human interaction. This grip is so tight on their psyche that studies show twentysomethings have begun to acquire the arthritis of their elders because of the years of unnatural worship posture they’ve given to their technology.

Old men and women used to break their bodies down by hard years and long days of mining and farming.

[pullquote]This younger culture is destroying their bodies not by their work ethic, but by the fractional death of a thousand tweets.[/pullquote] This younger culture is destroying their bodies not by their work ethic, but by the fractional death of a thousand tweets. We’re living with one of the first a-literate generations: They can read and write they just don’t care to.

“Until there’s a war” Tom says. The greatest generation sacrificed everything to pass this country through the crucible of World War II. I wonder what my late Papa, a Marine veteran and Iwo Jima survivor, would say about jobless thirty year old Peter Pans killing Nazi Zombies with their thumb skills. Papa had a colorful way with words. Use your sanctified imagination.

Many of these poor kids can’t sit down and have a coherent conversation for more than 3 minutes. The invincible itch of Instagram is enough to overwhelm all interpersonal skills.

With a dearth of “options” at our fingertips we’ve become dull boys and girls. We can’t live because we’re so distracted. Like Tom, it’s easier for us to go to the movies instead of moving.

Before I sound too much like a sanctimonious Ned Flanders grumpy old man type let me say:

I’m guilty. Totally.

My dad doesn’t even have an email.

His dad could barely stand to use a phone.

I go through withdrawals if I haven’t checked my Facebook in 24 hours.

Before the Industrial Revolution the average peasant wouldn’t even be able to travel outside of their small farm community, much less their farm. Almost none could read. Most of them wouldn’t live to see 35. Yet we have millions of people, places and things at our virtual fingertips everyday and we’re crippled by cat memes.

Let me say, I’m maxed out. I don’t care if Pinterest, Google Plus, or the next big social thing explodes and puts Mark Zuckerberg out of business with MySpace’s Tom. With active blogging, Facebooking and Twittering I’ve reached my breaking point.

After devoted family time, teaching, track, and home duties culminates towards the weekend, “moving” doesn’t sound like a sweet option. I’d rather just go to the movies and absorb someone else’s story.

But

Moving is everyone’s dish, not only Matt Damon’s.

Just move. Go start that ministry. Go do that workout routine. Go write that book. Go learn to dance. Go try to cook.

Go Fail.

Fail Spectacularly.

Let’s not be the tragic people Tom is speaking of: ones who watch action flicks but never take action. Ones who sing love songs but never love. Ones who long for a superhero to save the world, but never put on the red cape Christ provides with His own blood.

But then I read the Christian responses. And then I read the Christian responses to the Christian responses.

So to ensure I am completely irrelevant here is my Christian response to the Christian responses of Christian responses on the Saturday Night Live sketch this past weekend.

Saturday Night Live did a little tongue in cheek sketch allegorizing the life of Christ as a Quentin Tarantino film (Django Unchained style). In “Djesus Uncrossed” Christ was displayed as a vengeful mob boss going on an explicit revenge murder spree of his Roman enemies. I actually saw it live and chose to change the channel. I knew it was just satire yet it didn’t sit well with me.

Like any Tarantino work it was completely over the top. Mind you, this was a spoof of a Tarantino movie so exaggerated and ridiculous violence should be assumed.

It was intentionally irreverent.

There was a slight reek of blasphemy.

Some Christian commentators decried the silly portrayal as a borderline hate crime to Christianity. Their rationale: SNL would never dare portray Mohammed (who actually was a warrior) in such a manner, for fear of retribution.

I can sympathize a little bit with that; but since when did the world accurately portray Christ? That’s not the commission of SNL producers. That’s the church’s gospel work.

The whack job emperor Nero blamed Christians for the burning of Rome. He stuck a stake through the innocent boys and girls and lit them afire for his dinner parties. When others falsely accuse you, “be thankful” the most falsely accused Man in the world said.

And from SNL’s side, the joke wouldn’t work unless you partnered a subject notorious for peace and love (Jesus) with a subject notorious for über violence and gore (Tarantino). Shows that rely on press and viewership are going to go for shock value from time to time to drum up their brand. So, my panties aren’t quite as wadded as they first were over this.

Jesus very well may need better PR, but I say the response to this spoof proves Christianity is not, even in its fledgling American context, a violent religion. SNL poked irreverent fun at the historical Christ on primetime TV and the only backlash was some cheeky articles and ticked off blogs?

A cartoonist in Denmark could even illustrate Jesus the Prophet in an unfavorable light and I guarantee you flaming riots would not permeate the whole Bible Belt because of it.

There still may have been some relevant truth I believe the SNL clip exposed. The tarnished image of God in Hollywood minds can’t help but get it partially right some times. And that sliver of truth is enough to disturb me rightly.

Jesus did come as a stricken Lamb then.

He will soon come as a roaring Lion.

The world saw a beat down unimpressive Jewish dude with no following.

The world will soon see a risen royal King of countless angel armies.

It won’t look like a trite and cheesy SNL skit. It will look like the invincible unfolding of an eternal Kingdom where an Enthroned Monarch reigns with perfect love and authority.

Until He makes all things right side up, our simple upside down command from Him is unchanged for all ages: Love Him and love the people He has entrusted to us.

Especially the scoffers.

The scoffing masses didn’t bother our humble Master on the way to His death tomb. Let’s not presume we are above such dishonor as His servants.